Ethne just laughed. “Much quieter, for certain.”
Cull spoke up. “And the pagans? Are they what made it loud? With their human sacrifices?”
“Nay. The wind, it howls constantly,” she said. “I dinna know anything about human sacrifices.”
The lad got excited to be sharing what he knew. “They practiced human sacrifice, the pagans from the past. ’Tis Christians who value life.”
She shrugged. “Well, I witnessed killing only in battle. Does that disappoint ye?”
“A little.” He grinned at her.
“So, ye’ll be staying here with us? When the men go to the priory?” Rhona asked, the musicians just tuning up a short distance away. The tables were being cleared and set aside for the dancing that would soon be taking place. Long wooden benches were set up along the walls to accommodate the watchers and dancers that needed to rest.
Ethne hesitated, but she’d been over this and didn’t need to revisit it. She answered simply, “No, I will be following my husband.”
The girl said, “As ye should.”
Lachlann looked pleased as well and took her hand to settle on one of the benches. With him beside her, and Aldred and Niall on the other side of him, she wasn’t sure how much they had heard.
After they’d eaten and once the music started, Lachlann was quick to stand in front of her, hand extended. “Shall we?”
Immediately concerned, she said, “But yer injuries.”
“The pain has subsided.” He winked at her. “I feel young and spry.”
“Oh, dear!”
“Does that worry ye?” He pulled her to standing and waggled his brows until she smiled.
She slapped at his chest. “Such silliness. One dance only.” Her face flooded with heat. She hadn’t danced since she was a small child. “I am not sure…”
Taking her hand, he said, “Dinna underestimate yer husband’s ability.”
And with a tug and a whoosh, they joined the long line of others dancing about the Great Hall. It didn’t take long for her to remember the steps, including shifting her weight from one foot to another to keep from stumbling. Lachlann was correct; he was quite good. The big smile never left his face.
When they sat out, he plopped quite hard onto the wood surface, the toll dancing had taken on him more than he would admit.
“’Tis quite late.” She stated the obvious.
A wolfish grin on his face, he leaned closer and asked, “Are ye looking to take advantage of my weakened state, woman?”
“If ye would like me to.”
He barked a laugh. “That doesn’t sound nearly convincing enough.” Dragging her across his lap and turning her face, his passionate kiss quickly stole her breath. “I canna wait any longer to be with ye.”
She whispered, “And where shall we go?”
“I’ve a place just for us.”
He led the way to a short hall behind the dais where the mormaer and his lady wife watched the goings-on in the hall. Three deep alcoves lined the outside wall. A heavy tapestry closed off the area with enough room to stand comfortably and a thick cushioned window seat to sleep on.
Ducking into the first alcove, he pulled her against him and kissed her deeply. “Ah, wife,” he spoke the words against her lips.
“Husband.” She used the same intimate tone. It did sound good to her ears.
“Cull said the wife of the mormaer herself insisted we sleep here.” He offered a sheepish grin. “I prefer to sleep alone with my wife.”
A hand to her head, he urged her to rest against his chest. It took little urging. She was exhausted.
